A Midnight Visitor
by Igrayne01
Summary: One-Shot. Aeryn Cousland receives a nighttime visit from Dairren, the noble son of one of her mother's dearest friends.


**Disclaimer: Again, I am on a "Dragon Age" kick. I spent most of last night watching my husband play through the game as an elven mage, and I have been itching to write more fan fiction as a result of it. I hope you enjoy this one-shot. It gives more "screen time" to a character I really felt sorry for in the human noble origin story—Dairren. The poor chap gets to dive under the covers with the youngest Cousland and then be promptly disemboweled by Arl Howe's men. Such a sad and unfitting end for such a promising young man. Kidding aside, I did enjoy the little hidden "romance" in the beginning of the story. I know that the dialogue at the end doesn't follow what's in the game, but I wanted to change it up a little bit.  
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Her eyes had sought him out almost immediately upon his arrival. He was undeniably handsome, sturdy, from good stock, and interested in her. Perhaps it was because of this that she became receptive to his attentions, or perhaps it was the shy manner in which he allowed his mother, Lady Landra, to wax boastful about his many talents and achievements, none of which would have merited him a second glance normally. The shy, well-dressed young man and his kind eyes were far from uninteresting, however; abandoning self-restraint, she found herself propositioning him later that day in the study where her father, Bryce, usually tended to the Cousland family account.

Using the silly excuse that she would like to demonstrate to him some of the things she had learned from a rather obscene book in her father's study—aptly dubbed "The Art of Passionate Love"—Aeryn had successfully garnered his interest, so much so that he had boldly suggested a midnight visit to her chambers, unaccompanied. Now she found herself alone in her room, staring at the wooden door in anticipation of a knock. All it took was one rap to soothe her frazzled nerves, and then it would be over and she could fully enjoy the pleasures that awaited the both of them.

The waiting, however, was almost unbearable. Aeryn tried to content herself with mundane activities—scratching the head of her beloved Mabari, Cheldar, who snored peacefully at her feet, or repeating the words of an old childhood rhyme her mother oft recited to her before bed, or even counting the number of stones in the wall of her chamber. But nothing was working. She sat, attired in a most revealing dressing gown that allowed her ample cleavage to be on full display, bundled under the covers. The night was chill, and she snuggled closer to the big mass of fur that was Cheldar. The war dog snored peacefully and stirred in his sleep, jittering paws signaling to her that he was deep in the throes of a puppy dream.

Scratching the soft spot behind his ears carefully so as not to wake him, Aeryn plopped back against the feather pillows, playing with a strand of her silken hair.

_Father will think it most improper of me if ever he learns that I've invited Dairren to my room. Of course, what Father doesn't know can't hurt him…_

She imagined the disapproving face of her father set in a scowl as he chastised her for her lack of self-control. As the younger and more centered of the two Cousland siblings, Aeryn was used to being constantly held to a higher standard than her brother. He had, after all, sewn quite a few oats in his day, back before Oriana—and his young son Oren—had tamed him into something of a family man.

Giggling as she reminded herself of her ingenuity in getting Dairren to come to her room, Aeryn remembered that she would have to pull specifically from page eighty-five of the tome in order to test out one of the book's more adventurous positions. She didn't even know bodies could move that way, but after looking at the illustration of limbs intertwined every which way, she was certain she could mimic the act with a little bit of contortionism. And Dairren, judging from the look of intrigue firmly planted on his features earlier that day, was more than willing to lend a hand.

Drawn from her reverie by a swift knock at the door, Aeryn filled her lungs with a gasp of air in anticipation of her nighttime suitor. Throwing the covers over the bed so they hit Cheldar on the back, Aeryn slipped her feet onto the cool cobblestones of the floor and shuffled across the room. From his vantage point, Cheldar cocked his head sideways and whimpered at her, a low, mournful noise that he often used to wrest treats from Nan in the larder.

"Shhhhhh!" Aeryn said, lifting a finger to her sensuous, rosebud-hued lips. "You don't want to wake everyone, do you?"

In response, Cheldar hunkered back down against the bed, looking deceptively pitiful with his big brown doggy eyes. Aeryn knew that, if prompted, the Mabari could turn vicious in an instant. She was worried the sudden arrival of Dairren would elicit such a reaction, so she held her breath and hoped for the worst.

Thankfully, Cheldar seemed disinterested as soon as she opened the door, plopping back down to sleep. As Dairren stood before her in a chest-bearing tunic and some ornate dress robes, his reddish brown hair mussed and slightly disheveled, her heart pounded, threatening to break free of its prison. He smiled knowingly, his wide-set eyes squinting in approval as he took in her appearance.

"My lady," he said by way of greeting.

She inclined her head. "Would you come in, please?"

"Gladly."

This close, she could see that he was shivering. The chill of the night crept in through the open door, so Aeryn shut it in haste, hoping to stave off at least some of the cold. Dairren rubbed his callused hands together and brought them to his lips for warmth.

"Would you like to sit down?" Aeryn asked attentively, motioning toward the girly high-back vanity chair, which was covered in all manners of pink fluffery that Dairren would no doubt find distasteful.

Eyeing the chair, he said with a devilish grin, dropping his voice to a whisper, "I was hoping to sit some place a little more inviting…"

His dark eyes blazed as they beheld the mahogany canopied bed dominating the room, his meaning not lost on her. Feeling suddenly stupid, she said, "Of course. Make yourself at home… we have all night."

"That we do," he said, sliding out of his robes so that the thin white tunic was all he now wore. Visible just beneath it was the faint outline of his torso, which was surprisingly well-sculpted. As he sat down against the frilly pillows and ornately decorated coverlet, his powerful musculature was put on full display. "So…" he began tentatively, shyness overtaking him, "How are we to do this?"

"Let's begin by having a drink. It'll help loosen things up a bit," Aeryn supplied.

"An excellent suggestion."

She went for a pitcher of ale that she had conveniently set on the vanity in preparation of this night. Indulging in a bit of drunken fun, especially when her father and brother were due to ride into war the next day, leaving her home alone with her mother, was not bad, right?

Tipping the ale into the two dull silver chalices, she cleared her throat and spoke aloud. "It is good to see you again, Dairren. I honestly didn't know my mother was having guests… I suppose I should consider it fortuitous that our paths have crossed once again, especially with the way we left things last time."

Dairren took hold of the goblet as she placed it into his waiting hand, taking a long draught. Once he was finished, he glossed his lips with a flick of the tongue. Whether it was meant to merely suck up all the liquor—or to entice her—she didn't know. What she could be certain of, however, was the mounting heat in her loins.

"I was sixteen. Surely you still don't hold me at fault for pulling your hair, do you?"

"Pulling my hair?! What about the breaking my heart part?" she said flirtatiously. "When you left Highever with that ninny, Garya, I was bound and determined to have your nethers for my mantle."

The ale on his breath was potent as he swung closer to her, their conversation having brought them both to a relaxed sitting position on her bed. He chuckled a little at this declaration of hers, the lines in his face softening slightly.

"I can say in all honesty that I'm glad you allowed me to keep them, then."

With only inches between them, she said breathlessly, "Me too."

Grasping the back of his head forcefully with her hand, Aeryn brought his lips crushing against hers in a frenzy of passion. Both of the goblets they had been holding toppled to the floor, striking the cobblestones with a metallic cling as all sense of propriety was forgotten. Their mouths parted to allow for the insistent mating of their tongues. Dairren crawled on top of her, hands reaching up to her chest to unbutton the remainder of her revealing attire, his movements slow and soft… until his foot accidentally made contact with Cheldar's right haunch. The Mabari war hound growled softly, discerning golden eyes narrowing to slits as he glared back at Dairren for having disturbed his sleep—and pawed at his mistress.

"Uh… sorry, boy… good dog… good… eaaaasy… easy does it…" Dairren said, backing off slightly as he raised both hands. The hair on the dog's hindquarters was beginning to stand on end as Cheldar began sizing up his midnight "snack." With a loud clap of the hands, Aeryn brought the Mabari to attention.

"Cheldar! Bad dog! Leave Dairren alone. Go!"

Whimpering, the dog sauntered down and out of the bed, circling several times before finding a suitable place to sleep on the floor. Although the plaintive whimpers he elicited informed Aeryn she had perhaps been too harsh on him, she'd much rather he seek out some place else to sleep than sit here staring at her with a look of such disapproval. That was her father's job, after all, if and when he ever found out about her nighttime exertions.

"Now, where were we?" she said, turning back toward him as her need peaked feverishly inside of her. Grabbing a fistful of her long blue-black hair in one hand, Dairren pulled her to him and slipped the only obstacle between them and ecstasy—her gown—off easily and onto the bed. Naked, she was all golden and glorious, her body sculpted by the hands of the Maker himself. Everything, from her curved and fulsome hips to the full and supple weight of her breasts, was just as He had intended. Her beauty, which rivaled the prophet Andraste's, was ever apparent as she crawled toward Dairren on all fours, cornering him against the headboard until he had no place else to move.

With strong hands, he flipped her over to begin their long dance toward ecstasy. At first, his shallow movements were sweet and loving as he cradled her in his arms from behind and made love to her. She bit her lip, trying to quiet her wild moans, but then her lover teasingly amplified his efforts, kissing, sucking, and biting every inch of skin that he could get his mouth on. Her heavy breaths quickly grew into grunts, scarcely contained by the strong, powerful spasms of his body as he thrust into her again and again. One hand tangled in her hair as, limbs intertwined and throats grunting with extreme satisfaction, they reached a sustained climax.

Her tremendous desire now replaced with satisfaction, she turned to face him and reached up to kiss his lips. He lifted his exhausted head slightly to look into her dancing brown eyes.

"Wow. That was… I… well, I don't know what to sa—"

"Shut up and kiss me," she teased, biting his lip. Dairren obliged, cradling her closer as the excited heat transferred between their bodies.

With Dairren's strong arms wrapped around her, Aeryn felt safe and secure. All thoughts of her father and Fergus' departure the next day were far from her mind, and in its place was the nagging little voice that told her she would have to give her mother a very big thank you for having invited Dairren back to Castle Cousland. A very big thank you indeed.

As Dairren's steady breathing fell into the quiet rhythm of sleep, Aeryn couldn't shake the guilty feeling that she had used him to get past her own grief at not having been ordered to battle on the morrow alongside the rest of her kinsmen. Her father had even invited a Grey Warden—a Grey Warden, imagine!—named Duncan to the castle, and though the solitary man had expressed interest in recruiting her, Bryce's answer, as always, was a firm "no." Though she had fled to her room in a fit of anger, seeing Dairren soon after had chased away all unpleasant thoughts from her mind.

Was that what this was now? A diversion to keep her mind from wandering to her dissatisfaction?

Aeryn gently laid her head on his chest, studying the cadence of his breathing as it rolled in deep, shallow waves. A moment later, his hand was stroking her hair and he licked his lips, eyes fluttering awake.

"Aren't you going to get some sleep? It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

"Not for me it isn't."

"Why not? Your father and brother are going to be leaving Highever. Surely the preparations alone are taxing enough."

"You must think I'm an incredibly delicate flower, don't you?" she asked, sounding suddenly indignant. "I'll have you know my father trained me to be a fighter alongside my brother Fergus. I've as much right to be there as anyone else I know. And if anyone says otherwise, I'll beat them black and blue!"

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, pushing himself to his elbows into a half-sitting position. "You trying to get back at your father with me?"

She couldn't, in all honesty, deny the truth of this. Though she had always been attracted to him, and she still held a special fondness in her heart for their childhood antics, the thought of humiliating her father was indeed foremost in her mind.

"No, of course not. My issues with my father are not your concern. And Dairren, you must know by now my feelings for you are genuine. If you haven't figured that out already, then you don't deserve to be here."

"Whoa, hold on a moment there, my lady. I never said that… I just… it's…"

"You're really cute when you stutter, you know that?" she whispered huskily, nibbling his earlobe. She felt his muscles slacken in response to the pleadings of her tongue as she traced it along the contours of his outer lobe and down across his jaw line. "Make love to me," she whispered huskily, her breath hot in his ear.

"Who am I to refuse a beautiful woman?" he said, climbing over her.

Hours later, Aeryn lay sleeping in the midst of a most troubling dream. In it, she was leading the charge against the Darkspawn with her father's forces, rushing headlong into battle. The resultant thrill of happiness at having been finally able to swing her dual blades around in the air excited and frightened her at the same time. The blood ran thick on the ground and the screams of the men pierced her ears even as she crashed against her opponents, a faceless horde of abominations hell-bent on slaying her in battle. She lifted her leg, kicking one of the enemies to the ground, but as she turned, it was too late; a metal sword swung out toward her, and then all was dark.

Gasping, Aeryn shot up, the covers falling about her naked shoulders, exposing her glistening, sweat-covered skin to the moonlight. Beside her, Dairren was sleeping peacefully, as was Cheldar, who had crept to the foot of the bed some time during the night and was now sprawled out over their toes. Holding a hand to her head, Aeryn shut her eyes to try and rid her mind of the sheer terror she had felt moments before in her dream.

Before she really had time to process what had just happened, a knock sounded on the door.

"My lady?" a deep baritone cried. "My lady, please open up!"

Roused to life by the commotion, Dairren sat up and rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. Just as Aeryn made a move toward the door, his hand came across her shoulders.

"No, let me. You go back to sleep."

"Dairren, if my father finds you here…"

"Damn the consequences!" he said, grinning feebly at her as he scrounged around for his undergarments. Slipping them on, he went to the door and opened it.

And then Aeryn screamed.

For a moment, she wasn't sure if the sound had come from her; it seemed as though everything slowed down to a fraction of its normal speed. Helpless to prevent the events from unfolding, she merely gaped in horror as the pike twisted through the young man's chest and out the other side, spewing blood all over the floor as his head snapped back and he fell to the ground. Though his mouth moved to form a silent scream, none came. Instead, he crumpled into a heap and was still.

Aeryn rushed for the chest as the two armored guards clambered into the room, armed to the teeth with an impressive array of weaponry. Her hands skillfully undid the lock and grasped the hilt of her duelist's sword, swiping sideways to inflict superficial lacerations on her opponents. At her side, Cheldar aggressively charged them, mauling them with his massive paws. Thinking quickly, she grabbed a small cheese knife and equipped it in place of a dagger in her left hand. Two more strikes and she and Cheldar had made short work of the guards.

Throwing down her weapons, she dropped to her knees and cradled Dairren's limp head in her arms, her lips weaving a trail of kisses over his brow and down the aristocratic bridge of his prominent nose. Shaking, she held him to her for several minutes longer, scarcely believing what had just happened. Arl Howe's men, Dairren dead, the castle under attack. It was almost too much for her to grasp.

Hadn't this been what she'd wanted, after all? To be thrust into the thick of battle with nothing but a sword for company, her Mabari war hound faithfully at her side as she rode a wave of victory?

_No._

The frightening reality that three men now lay in the preliminary stages of rigor mortis—in her bedchamber, no less—was difficult to swallow. Glancing down at her childhood sweetheart's glazed over eyes, at the stiff arms that had only moments before enfolded her to provide such warmth, such love, she gripped her sword and knife with renewed vigor and turned her attention to the wide open door.

She was prepared to take down every damn one of them… or die trying.


End file.
